Werde nie dich verlassen
by sopaltenbass
Summary: An alternative point of view of Chapter 18 of Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness by Thanfiction.  WARNING:  Multilingual fic, but it's mostly in English.


**Beta:** None. If you see something, say something. Especially if you are fluent in French as that's the one language I'm not quite sure about in this fic...  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> 1. This is a work of fan-fiction. 2. No money is made on this work. 3. JKR retains her rights. 4._lj user="thanfiction"_ retains his portions. 5. Any and all language errors are mine and I apologize beforehand if I slaughter your native language.**  
><strong>**Warnings:** Torture and its effects  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Chapter 18 of Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness (DAYD) by Thanfiction  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Missing scenes from DAYD. How Michael and Terry experienced the events leading up to, including, and following Michael's torture at Belsen's hands.  
><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> HOLY COW, this took me a LONG time to write. Written for the lovely and supportive Emily and Leah who have become such good friends. I love you, girls! I hope you enjoy this. (And I hope it isn't a cause for alarm. ;) ) Also a response to the "Eyes Tell All" prompt from the LJ community _linebyline_.

On Mike's Patronus – I searched and searched and couldn't find anything about what it actually is…so I just gave him one that fit the story particularly well. See more information on diricawls in the HP Lexicon.

See second Author's Note at the end for additional translations.

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><p><strong>Werde nie dich verlassen<strong>

Terry knew what Mike was going to do from the moment they burst into the Great Hall and saw Elliot. Years of practice with projective Legilimency had sensitized the two of them to each other's stares, and even though eye contact was no longer necessary for the two of them to communicate this way, it strengthened the connection immensely.

_I swear on my father's grave...komme um Mitternacht...excido..._(1)

Terry could almost feel the rage exuding from Mike's body as he thought the words, disjointed and garbled linguistically though they were, echoing what he had said to Neville after his and Ernie's floggings.

_Sei nicht dumm, mein Bruder. Denk! Wie hilft es?_

_Eium succuro._

_Pass auf, mein Freund. Will nich dich sehen Verletzte._

_Ne vous inquiétez pas._(2)

But Terry did worry. He saw the determination in Mike's face: the set of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders, the razor-sharp edge of his gaze. He knew Mike would come back and do just what he said he would.

That night as the Ravenclaws prepared for bed, he attempted to reason with him again, this time in plain English. Turning to face him where he sat at his bedside desk, Terry tried, "Come on, Mike. Think of the consequences if you get caught—"

"I won't get caught," Mike cut him off. His tone brooked no argument, but Terry wasn't going to give up that easily. Mike was his best friend, and Terry wouldn't let him do something so uncharacteristically Gryffindor, if he could help it.

"Don't be so thick! The Carrows saw you in the Great Hall, and they _know_ the DA might do something like what I know you're planning."

Mike looked up at him with sadness but determination in his eyes. "I'll be careful. I promise." His gaze took on a hardened edge, and the next words were more a command than a common phrase. "Good night, Terry."

Terry would have argued more if he had thought it would do any good, but he knew he wouldn't get very far with Mike. It was late, much later than his friend normally stayed up, and he was not even pretending to get ready for bed, so Terry just sighed, lay back against his pillows, and said, "Good night, Mike, _frater meus._"(3)

Mike waited until he heard deep, rumbling snores coming from behind Tony's curtains, long, slow, even breathing from behind Terry's, and absolute silence from behind Steve's before he rose from his desk, still fully clothed, and made his way down the stairs from his dormitory. Once in the common room, he cast a Disillusionment spell over himself and Silenced the eagle which stood sentry at the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower. He crept along the hallways, like one of the ghosts he hoped he wouldn't soon become.

He had known there would be a guard. Snape would be foolish indeed to not secure the Great Hall against "intruders" after the DA's first mission. And, a credit to the Green and Silver of his house, Snape had not set some dimmer-than-an-untrained-First-Year's-_Lumos_ troll to bar the hall doors. This was a powerful wizard, one of Snape's Death Eater friends, no doubt.

With the skill born of long hours of training with the DA and Ravenclaw work ethic, Mike could feel the power emanating from this man. Yes, it was a man. Snape would not entrust so important a task to a female, not even Bellatrix Lestrange.

The Death Eater had not seen him. Mike was ready. _Confundo_. The Death Eater's eyes slid out of focus for a moment before settling on the stairs leading down to the kitchens. Silently, Mike drew the vial of Sleeping Draught he had brewed earlier that evening from an inside pocket of his robes, withdrew the cork and leveled his wand.

_Potio_(4)_ wingardium leviosa._

The potion seemed suspended inside the vial, neither touching the bottom nor flowing from the mouth. Mike took the container gently between forefinger and thumb and lowered it. The potion hung in mid air, held in place solely by Mike's spell. A complicated twirl and flick of the wrist and a silent Exhalatio (4), and the potion changed instantly from a liquid to a fine mist. Purposefully, Mike directed the mist for a straight trajectory.

_Waddiwassi!_

The potion shot up the Death Eater's nose and he crumpled to the ground. Mike spared no thought for the softness of the man's landing on the hard flagstones. Let him feel it in the morning. It was so much better than he deserved.

At last, Mike faced the doors to the Great Hall.

Just as Neville had done so many months earlier, he held his breath as he pulled the doors open, though not for fear they would creak. Mike's trepidation came at what he might find in the hall. The only light in the room came from the tip of Mike's wand. The moon, though nearly at last quarter, was yet to rise, and the stars were hidden behind cloud. Not even the celestial bodies would witness what Mike was here to do. Swiftly and silently, he made his way down the length of the Great Hall. As he approached the staff table the crumpled form of Elliot became clearer. He hung limply in his shackles, asleep? Or otherwise unconscious? It was impossible to tell from here.

Mike finally reached the boy and lifted his head gently to look into his face. Elliot had been beaten just as severely as Neville and Ernie had been earlier that year, but his eleven-year-old flesh, far less able to withstand the repeated blows, was gouged and ripped so severely it looked as if someone had taken a fabled _Sectumsempra_ to him. Perhaps more alarmingly, several of the gashes were still oozing blood. If the boy had been bleeding this long, it was no wonder he had lost consciousness.

Mike knelt at the boy's side, feeling for a pulse at Elliot's wrist. _Please, Merlin, let it not be too late. _But surely Snape would not allow him to die. He didn't dare go that far. Mike realized he was grasping Elliot's wrist in such a death grip that it would be impossible to feel a pulse at all, even if it were strong, and he loosened his hold. _There_. There was the slightest threading of a beat under his fingers. He'd have to work quickly.

Having a natural affinity for languages and a knack for spell development was one reason the Sorting Hat had placed Mike in Ravenclaw, and nobody would know just how far he had taken these skills except Terry. Unless he was discovered tonight. _No_, Mike thought, _don't start doubting yourself now. You know what you have to do, just do it._

He stood, supporting Elliot as best he could on his non-wand arm. The boy's head lolled backward against Mike's shoulder. Mike aimed his wand.

_Diffindo maxima ferra!_(5) The shackles around Elliot's wrists broke off, soon to be followed by the ones at his ankles and, as Mike had known it would, the whole of the boy's weight slumped against him. He felt a stab of pure hatred toward Snape at that moment. How could he do this to such a small boy?

As he lowered the boy gently to the floor, Mike took in the severity of his injuries. He had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that he wouldn't have to perform any life-altering spells to prepare Elliot for the next stage of tonight's operation, but seeing just how deep the strikes had gone, he had no choice. If Elliot was to come out of this without serious disfigurement, Mike would have to use his most powerful healing spell.

_Vulnera sāte in saecula omnes_.(6) He repeated the silent spell over and over as he waved his wand over the worst of the damage.

Now for the tricky part. Mike had thought this through and, though he had never had cause to test it, the theory was good, and Mike placed a lot of trust in theory.

_Expecto Apparendī-Patronum_.(7) Mike's diricawl patronus bloomed from his wand tip, and it took a few moments for him to stop staring. He had seen his normal patronus many times before, and the sight of the overlarge bird with its imperious stare did not so much frighten him as cause him to become hyper-alert to every soft noise, every slight movement he made. However, the modification to the incantation had caused a subtle change in the diricawl's appearance. It looked somehow more solid than a typical patronus, and it seemed to glow gold at the edges. The light from the patronus dazzled Mike for a moment and he blinked several times while his eyes adjusted.

_Elliot_, Mike thought, pulling himself together. Carefully, he lifted the boy and placed him on his patronus' back. _Take him to St. Mungo's. Tell the Healers to contact his family and keep an eye on him until they get there_. _I've done what I could with the external injuries and probably a lot for the internal ones as well, but they should check him over. Make sure I haven't missed something. Go._

With a wisp of vapor the patronus vanished, just as a real diricawl would, and Mike, suddenly exhausted from the advanced spells he had been working for the past quarter of an hour, turned to leave.

The last words he remembered thinking that night were _Oh shit._

When Terry woke the next morning, he glanced almost automatically over at Mike's bed. It was empty. _He must have already gone down_, Terry thought to himself. _Mike, I really hope you didn't do something stupid last night_. He received no answer. Either Mike was ignoring him or he _had_ done something stupid last night and couldn't answer him. Terry didn't want to think about what the consequences might be for his friend if he had, and hurried to get ready for the day.

As he walked into the Great Hall for breakfast, he scanned the Ravenclaw table quickly before the voice in his head arrested him.

_Terry, __mon frère , Je suis tellement désolé_.(8)

His eyes flew to the stone wall behind the staff table and locked on Michael, gagged and manacled to the wall facing him. His eyes told Terry exactly what he was thinking with no need for Legilimency of any kind. _I did what I thought was right and I will gladly take whatever Snape and the Carrows give. I'm sorry if it hurts you to watch, but I'm not sorry I did it. Forgive me._

"Oh Michael," Terry lamented in a whisper. Why did he have to be so brave?

Mike's head dropped onto his chest, and Terry felt the wave of remorse emanating from his friend for what he was doing to his friends.

When all of the students were seated, Snape began to address them, but Terry barely heard him. He was too focused on Mike. Phrases like "obviously unacceptable," "foremost a learning institution," and "Genius deserves genius" filtered through the haze of sound and color that surrounded them both. And then, Michael let out a strangled cry and began to struggle against his bonds, and Terry broke his gaze and looked around.

Hans Belsen was making his way to the front of the hall, and Terry's heart sank. This was so much worse than either of them had imagined. As Belsen approached Michael, he began to tremble so violently that the chains binding him to the wall clanged like morbid bells.

Terry heard a rushing in his ears as an overwhelming sense of terror consumed him, his own fear compounded by Mike's as Belsen looked him directly in the eye and began to speak to him.

"NO…Oh, _PLEASE_, no…I'm _SORRY_…I'll do ANYTHING, _ANYTHING_…just don't…I don't do pain, I'm

not a hero, I never tried to be a hero, just PLEASE, _CRUCIATE_ ME, _KILL_ ME, _ANYTHING_…PLEASE!"

_Oh Merlin_, thought Terry, _what is he going to DO to him?_ And then he saw the torture device cradled almost lovingly in the old man's hands, and it felt as though Terry's heart sank to the floor. _No, not that, ANYTHING but that!_

And then Mike began to scream. It ripped at Terry as each of Mike's yells crested, and yet, he tried to get through to Mike, to keep him sane, to keep himself from doing something even more rash than what Mike had done last night.

_It's going to be okay. You did the right thing. Pain is temporary._

"AAAAAAAAAAAH!" _Terry, Terry, it hurts so much. Make it stop. Make it stop!_

Tears obscured his vision as Terry replied. _I can't. I'm sorry, so sorry, Mike. Just stay with me. Count with me. Unus._

"AAAAAAAAAAAH!" _Zwei._

_τρία_.

_Quattuor._ Mike gasped and started screaming again.

_Fünf._

They made it all the way to _zwei hundert acht und achtzig_(9) before Terry felt Mike beginning to crack. _Terry, I'm begging you. Make it stop. Beendig es. Beendig mich! Bitte._

_Vergib mir, mein Bruder,_(10) Terry gasped through the connection. He stood up at the Ravenclaw table, tears streaming down his face, and thought, _Avada Kedavra_.

As the jet of green light collided with Mike's chest, he hung limp in his bonds, and the screams subsided, Terry ran from the hall. He didn't stop running until he reached his dormitory where he collapsed on his bedspread and sobbed for his brave, brave friend.

Mike felt himself drifting back into consciousness for the second time that day. It didn't hurt nearly as much as it had the last time. He heard hushed voices coming from somewhere above him. Easing his eyes open to slits, he saw Neville and Terry at his bedside.

"Do you think he's going to be okay?" Neville asked, sounding concerned.

"Define 'okay,'" Mike tried to say. His voice was gone, a casualty of his torture. He was lucky that was the only casualty.

Terry and Neville looked at him quickly, apparently not realizing he was conscious. Terry made to grab Mike's hand and he grimaced and sucked in his breath at the pain. Terry was babbling nearly incoherently.

"Oh…Mike, you're awake! I'm sorry, I'm so _sorry_…I tried to _kill_ you…I'm so…."

"No. Most beautiful thing…anyone's ever done…for me. Thank you." _You just did what I asked you to. You don't need to apologize for that._

"I couldn't let it go on. I thought _I_ was losing my mind. The way you were screaming…what was that _thing _doing to you?" Terry's eyes showed a ghost of the horror that Mike had seen there when the torture device had been revealed.

"Don't know. Hurt." _The counting helped some, but that thing just kept burrowing deeper and deeper and…_ He shuddered.

"Are you…" Terry hesitated. "Do you think you'll be all right?"

Mike reached him without words. _Werde fein sein_. _Gratias, frater meus, pro quidque_.(11) _Just…don't leave me, Terry. Please. Stay with me._

Terry squeezed Michael's hand, leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.

"Werde nie dich verlassen."

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><p>Author's Note 2: Translations of the non-English phrases.<p>

1. I swear on my father's grave...I come at midnight (German)...cut down (Latin)

2. Don't be stupid, my brother. Think! How does it help? (German) It helps him. (Latin) Be careful, my friend. I don't want to see you hurt. (German) Don't worry. (French)

3. my brother (Latin)

4._ Potio_ – potion (Latin) … _Exhalatio_ – vapor (Latin)

5._ Diffindo maxima ferra_ – strong break irons (variation on _Diffindo_; Latin)

6._ Vulnera sāte in saecula omnes_ – Heal all wounds forever (variation on the healing spell Snape uses on Draco in the movie version of HBP; Latin)

7._ Expecto Apparendī-Patronum_ – Unfold Appearing-Protector (Apparition-capable Patronus; Latin)

8._ mon frère , Je suis tellement __désolé__._ – my brother, I am so sorry. (French)

9. _Unus…Zwei…τρία…Quattuor…Fünf…zwei hundert acht und achtzig_ – One…Two…Three…Four…Five…Two hundred eighty-eight (Latin, German, Greek, Latin, German, German)

10._ Beendig es. Beendig mich! Bitte. … Vergib mir, mein Bruder_ – End it. End me! Please. Forgive me, my brother (German)

11._ Werde fein sein_. – I'll be fine. (German) _Gratias, frater meus, pro quidque_. – Thank you, my brother, for everything. (Latin)


End file.
